Trapped in the Shadows: The Silent Struggle of a Girl Amidst Undiagnosed Borderline Personality Disorder
Growing up as the daughter and sister of individuals grappling with undiagnosed Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), my world was fraught with turmoil and instability. The pain and longing to create meaningful connections with my mother and older sister were overshadowed by the relentless chaos and emotional volatility that plagued our lives.
My sister would flip personalities and pretend to be a girl named Kit. She would tease and hit me. When I would fight or yell back, she would tell me that I couldn’t hurt Kit, only Wendy who was locked in a dungeon somewhere. I felt helpless. This is just one example of the kinds of things my sister would do and seemed to enjoy.
My mom would often have wild fits of rage. She would follow me and my sister around the house and yell things. A child should never hear and B. Nothing a child should ever hear from a mother. Phrases like, “Go back to the horse you rode in on.” ironic, no? My mom is the reason I learned the word slut. These episodes were folloed by long periods of sleeping. Then a period of a sweet and kind mom. And around again.
The men in our family, including my father and brother-in-law, turned a blind eye to the chaos and instability, perpetuating the facade of normalcy to the outside world. Their silence and avoidance of addressing the underlying issues only served to deepen the wounds and perpetuate the cycle of dysfunction that gripped us.
I remember laying in bed at night, around age 6, and realizing, the more depressed and sick my mom got, the angrier my dad got, and the sicker my mom got. A cycle. Where are we going?
I am acutely aware of the legacy of pain and dysfunction that has been passed down through generations. The cycle of denial and dysfunction that gripped my family .These experiences created for me many personal struggles. I struggled deeply in school, I believe in part due to my chaotic home life. I struggled with friendship and trust without understanding what might be wrong with me. I couldn’t and didn’t believe people liked me of loved me. I live with a daily and deep-seated need to constantly monitor and work on my own mental health.
These women, my mother and sister, are my great teachers in both pain and beauty. Their struggles have shaped me in ways I am still unraveling, but through it all, I hold onto the belief that stability and peace are possible.
As with all things, this is not the only truth, and I do have many fond memories and experiences with all of these people, and, It feels important for me at this time for acknowledge the pain of these cycles and experiences.
